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I'm worried
She thinks I don't care
That I've simply moved on
When I feel tears at the back
Of my eyes all the time.
I don't go out much,
Too busy in my room
Losing myself to
Endless stories.
I'm worried
She is already over me
In a way,
When all her smiley faces
Make my stomach turn up
And down.
God I'm so worried
She will hate me
And think I'm a monster
Because if she did
I'd believe her.
Wearing Sekt
Bleeding mutiny
Screaming demons
On box shadows
Conspiracy of the night
Ripping rubber tight
Laughing odyssey
Hopping commoditys
Playing cool
Metal shins
Smile and grin
Illegal eagles
Give me wings
To a better day
A better way
Back alley junkies
Making the monkeys
Howler sharpened teeth
Steal laced blades
Marking walls
Black as strike
Notches in dirt
Pumping till it hurts
Like Monday
Never beats
Sunday
Cuz I'm
Bumpski's
Hopping stars
Lighting the dark highway
To hell
Like NIB
Every single day
Every single way
Like a red eye Nash
Lighting hash
From
Bringing it back
To stand in place where you are
And riding the frequency
Yeah Blaze Yeah Clive
Yeah Kevin
Smoking
M1987
McKinney Sabbath
Ruled like
Pinky and the brain!
How much of my history can you read from my mouth?
Can you make some sort of sense of what my life is about?
"You ought to quit smoking.
It's bad for your gums."
It seems my teeth are paying the price for how I like to have fun.
I dread the sound of that drill,
but I'm here of my own free will.
Please don't tell me that I have a cavity.
Ask me about my flossing habits,
and if I've been experiencing sensitivity.
I have.
You see, I've been having these dreams in which I'm spitting out all of my teeth.
I looked it up in Zolar's encyclopedia.
It reads:
Teeth falling out = death.
It's been ******* with me.
I found some other sources which state
that losing your teeth in dreams is a subconscious way of expressing anxiety.
Sounds about right.
I've been waking up in hot sweats every single night.
With a weight on my chest that feels like the precursor to death.
I've told my favorite non-friend about how lately I've been feeling a sense of impending doom.
Like I'm headed towards disaster.
She didn't have anything to say about it.
I guess I've always had a flair for the melodramatic.
I have a dentist appointment tomorrow.
Tattoo's on the skin tell a story they hide a lot of sin.
They tell of personal pain and personal truth.
A person's journey may told by the tattoo's on their skin.
Triumphs, truths,lies and love are tattoo's on skin.
Even though the tattoo isn't visible doesn't mean it isn't there.
Life is a like a tattoo it comes in many forms and shapes just like people.
The colors vivid as blood and ink mix together in a dance intertwined,the script and symbols captured.
All of us are marked, we are unique, we burn with life that is our own personal tattoo.
Inked onto flesh is special meaning frozen in time now there for life.
Unfolding into all i am and will be the ink that is there tattooed on my skin, Is there for the world to see.

Written 3rd June 2014
There are two voices inside my head
One says I live, the other I'm dead
The later is louder, I know it's not true
The other corrects me and pulls me through
Both have power, watch who you choose
Live or die, the later you loose
The small voice you must hear
And know where it's found
Will free you from deth
To whom you were bound
My dad lost his arm to cancer.
He was 61 years old,
did he let that get him down?
Heck NO...
The day he came home from the hospital
minus one shoulder and arm,
he jumped on his bike and rode
it down to our house,
which was a long block away.
balance, how did he do it?

Dad was always included in
all our neighborhood parties.
if he was sitting in my backyard,
he would be drinking a cup of coffee
with Jim, my husband.
If he was sitting in my neighbor Dennys backyard
he would be drinking a beer
with Denny.

Dad worked as a machine repairman
with out his arm for two more years.
Because he was good.
Dad bowled two times a week with one arm,
and he walked out at the Park
the days he didn't bowl.

My amazing dad, with one arm and no shoulder,
built my kitchen cupboards,
put up a ceiling in the basement,
build doll houses for my daughter
and the neighbor girl,
and also one for a church raffle.

My dad went to church every Sunday,
and when he was so ill,
the nun would visit dad and mom,
mom would play the *****,
beer barrel polka,
while the nun and my dad danced.

He was known by many, taught kids
how to bowl, including my son.
AND HE IS MISSED BY ALL....

This is a tribute to my daddy
named Fritz....
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY...

by ~ judy
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